


The Night Out

by GalaxyGhosty



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff, Intoxication, M/M, PAX East
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 07:50:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3720982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/pseuds/GalaxyGhosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mark is drunk. Jack is only slightly exasperated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Out

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on a roll today. So much writing, I'm so proud of myself. 
> 
> Written for an Anon on my tumblr account, where I'm taking requests. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

“Jaaaaaaaaaack. _Jaaaaaaaaack_.” 

“Mark, you don't have'ta talk so loud,” Jack mumbled, and he pulled his friend stumbling towards the elevator. “I'm right here, man.”

Mark hummed softly, his eyes drooping shut. “Jaaack. 'M sleepy. Really sleepy.”

He giggled at that, and Jack rolled his eyes. He'd only been here less than a day at PAX East and Mark was already wasted. Meeting him had been one thing—Jack had been thrilled. Mark was _exactly_ the kind of person he was hoping he'd be; kind, endearing, and downright hilarious. The two had decided to go out for drinks with the rest of the guys; Aaron, Wade, and Bob, and when Mark had one drink too many, they left it up to Jack to take him back.

“You _are_ staying in the same hotel,” Aaron had said to him, with a smile that he _swore_ had a double meaning. "It won't be too bad, Jack." 

The others gave him that same smile and he hadn't liked it one bit. But even if he hated being stuck with what was practically babysitting duty, he figured taking Mark back to the hotel room once wouldn't kill him.

“I know you're sleepy,” Jack mumbled. “I'm workin' on it. We're almost there, man. Hold out for me a little longer?”

Mark giggled again, but didn't protest. “Only for you, Jackarooney.”

Jack flushed a bit at the nickname, but thankfully the elevator made a soft _ding_ , and he pulled Mark out with him into the hall. He made a point of not making eye contact with anyone in the hall, which, thankfully, were very few.

“He's suuuuuch a good friend,” Mark sang to the young man that Jack passed. The guy gave him a quizzical look as Mark went on, “Suuuch a good friend...one of the best friends...” 

The American suddenly looked very sad, and Jack mouthed an apology to the stranger as he quickly pulled Mark the rest of the way to his room. He tried at the door, but realized that, as it should be, it was locked. He glanced down at his intoxicated partner.

“Mark,” Jack said slowly, clear as he could manage. “Where's your key card?”

“My pocket,” Mark replied, then started laughing again. “My pocket. It's in my pocket. Heh...” 

For some reason, _pocket_ seemed to be the most hilarious thing in the world. Jack gripped tighter around his friend's back, and used his other hand to fish around in Mark's back pocket. 

“Oooh,” Mark hummed, giving Jack a flirtatious wink. “Watch your hands, Jackaroo.”

The nicknames were just getting weirder, Jack thought. He tried not to blush again at Mark's implication as he pulled out the man's wallet. He flipped it open, and saw the key card in one of the slots. With much difficulty and the use of his knee, he pulled the card out one-handed, before he slipped it back into Mark's pocket. 

He said nothing this time, which Jack was silently grateful for.

The Irishman quickly slid the card through the reader, and it beeped, flashing green. The door unlocked and he opened it, pushing Mark in first as he closed the door behind him. But when he turned around to put Mark to bed, the man had taken to laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling in awe.

“It's so _tan_ ,” he whispered. Then he laughed again. “Jaack. Look how tan it is.”

“Very tan there, laddie,” Jack humored him, then reached his hand out. “Now c'mon, Mark. Wouldn't you rather lay on your nice, soft bed?”

Mark took his hand, albeit he missed it a few times. Jack pulled him up, straining to get him onto his feet. When he finally got him there, Mark stumbled into him and Jack instinctively wrapped his arms around him, cushioning him.

“You're pretty nice and soft,” Mark mumbled, pressing his face into his shoulder.

Jack swallowed, his face practically on fire. He cleared his throat, rubbing Mark's back awkwardly. “Thanks, man.” 

Mark just hummed, and Jack eased him out of the hug. Mark pouted as he did so, but Jack ignored him as he led him over to his bed. He sat him down, then knelt down, pulling off his shoes and tossing them to the other side of the room. 

“You're so nice to me,” Mark said, looking at him, blinking furiously. “I dunno why. You're just so nice.”

Jack couldn't help but chuckle slightly at that. “It's what friends do, Mark.”

Deciding that Mark could live one night sleeping in pants, Jack picked up the American's legs and slid them onto the bed. Mark didn't move much, and took to staring at the ceiling again as if it would reveal some sort of answer he was searching for. He pulled the sheets from underneath of him, and tried to pull it over him. 

Jack grabbed his glasses and slid them off his face, folding them and putting them on the nightstand. “G'night, Mark.”

“Jaaack,” Mark said, reaching out for him. He was already sitting up again. “Jaack. Don't go.”

The Irishman sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. How had he gotten talked into babysitting duty again? But he took Mark's hand gently, with the intention of putting it back under the sheets. “Mark, go to slee--” 

He didn't get to finish as Mark, with a surprising amount of strength for a drunk, pulled him down onto the bed. Jack yelped, and Mark wrapped his arms around him. Jack's heart spiked in his chest. “Mark...” 

“Please stay...” the American whispered. “Just for tonight?”

The softness of his voice was maddening. It was so innocent and gentle and good God, how could Jack say no to that? 

“Just gimme a moment,” Jack grumbled. “Let me take off my shoes, for God's sake.”

Mark made no movement to let go of him, and so Jack kicked off his shoes, trying to make himself more comfortable. As he wiggled, Mark's grip on him only seemed to tighten, and Jack had no choice but to roll onto his side and make the most of it.

In less than half an hour, the vice-grip that had been on him slackened. Soft snoring filled the room, and Jack knew that he could probably get up and leave now if he so desired, but he found that he was surprisingly and comfortably warm in this position.

His face was inches from Mark's, and Jack reached his hand up, brushing a stray strand of hair out of the man's face. He looked so peaceful...almost beautiful, in a strange sort of way. 

Jack bit down on his lower lip, swearing internally. 

He closed his eyes, deciding that spending the night here wouldn't kill him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
